


Feathery Combat

by AnimationNut



Series: Platonic Soulmate AU [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Church does not die in this AU, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Don't copy to another site, Found Family, Gen, Or Donut's version of a pillow fight, Pillow Fight, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Team as Family, featuring Doc as his partner in crime, platonic soulmate au, which is running around ambushing everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimationNut/pseuds/AnimationNut
Summary: When a shipment of pillows arrives on Chorus, Doc unintentionally gives Donut the idea for a pillow fight. Or his version of a pillow fight, which is sneaking up on his friends and ambushing them with pillows.





	Feathery Combat

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Red vs. Blue.

In the aftermath of Malcolm Hargrove’s defeat Chorus was suddenly no longer invisible. Ships flooded the airspace, loaded with supplies and offer of aid. Kimball was both delighted and wary by the influx of foreign visitors. As much as they needed the assistance, she wasn’t willing to accept anything until every ship and crew were given full inspections.

After a long conversation the Reds and Blues decided that they could delay their retirement for a little while longer. Chorus needed serious rebuilding and though they wouldn’t stick around for all of it, they were willing to help them get started.

Donut and Doc were assigned one of the many warehouses being used to stock supplies. Their building was housing the furniture that was being donated to help furnish the soon-to-be-constructed houses and buildings. It seemed war had reached most corners of Chorus, thanks to the efforts of Felix and Locus. The urban spaces were habitual for soldiers and rebels, not civilians, which most Chorusans were eager to become once more.

“People are so nice!” said Donut, cheerfully digging through the newly-arrived crates. “But they have terrible taste in decoration.”

Doc shifted a glance around the warehouse. Couches, benches, chairs, desks and various other types of furniture were stacked throughout the concrete space. Most of it lacked colour, the fabric primarily beige, grey or brown. While there was a splash of burgundy and green here and there, it was admittedly a little bit on the boring side.

“I don’t think that matters to the New Republic—uh, Federal Army—uh, the Chorusans.” The name fell uneasily off his tongue, as he wasn’t used to referring to the people of Chorus in such a manner. “They’ve been without so much for so long, I’m sure they appreciate whatever they can get.”

Donut clicked his tongue. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve something classy. Like a leather sofa, or marble counters, or a waterfall sink!”

“Well, there’s always hope, I guess.”

Deeming the crate he had been rifling through to be full of nothing but cotton towels, Donut moved on to the next one. He pried off the lid and stared at the dozens of fluffy white pillows stacked inside. “Look Doc!”

“Pillows,” said Doc happily. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a proper pillow. My neck hates me.”

“I know,” agreed Donut. “It feels like I’ve been sleeping on rocks for years. These are perfect.”

“Yeah. These would be great for pillow fights.” When Donut stilled and turned to stare at him, Doc hastily backed up. “Uh…I just gave you an idea, didn’t I?”

“Yup!” he chirped.

As he snagged a pillow Doc raced off, sprinting for the exit. But Donut had a heck of an arm and he was immediately sent sailing to the floor as the feather-filled weapon knocked into his legs. He grunted as his back slammed into the concrete.

“Ow.”

“Gotcha!” crooned Donut. “And I always get my man.”

“Geez, where did you learn to throw like that?”

Blue eyes regarding the pillows thoughtfully, Donut said, “These do make fantastic pillow fight pillows. I bet it’s been a while since the others have been assaulted by a cloud of white to the face.”

“Uh—”

“Doc!” Whirling around, Donut’s eyes gleamed. “You and I are going on a mission!”

“We’re going to throw pillows at the guys?” Doc asked in bemusement.

“Yes!”

“Even Wash and Carolina?”

“You bet.”

“They’ve got freaky instincts. They’ll catch whatever we throw at them.”

“Then we’ll have to be sneaky.”

“Wash to Doc, come in. Are you there?”

Concern curled in Doc’s chest before smoothing into relief when he answered the call. “Yeah, I’m here, Wash. What’s up?”

“Where’s Donut?”

“He’s here too.”

“Is he wearing his helmet?” Wash asked suspiciously. “I tried calling him first but there was no response.”

Doc shot a glance at Donut’s helmet, which rested near the crates they were meant to be inspecting. “Not at the moment,” he admitted.

Not wearing their armour during while they were out and about was Washington’s pet peeve. Most of them were in the habit of always wearing it while they were out of their rooms. Donut didn’t quite see why Wash was still so vigilant when the war was over. Some days he wouldn’t bother to wear his armour, and most days he didn’t wear his helmet. It drove Washington nuts.

“Tell him to put it on,” Wash ordered. “If I have to tell him again, I’m going to kick his ass. What are you two doing, anyway? Donut is far too joyful, even for him. You’re still in the furniture warehouse, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we are. You know Donut. He likes his interior designing.”

“Uh-huh.” Though he didn’t sound entirely convinced, Wash was satisfied that nothing was wrong. “I’ll let you get back to work. And cram that helmet over his head.”

The radio call cut out and Doc glanced at Donut, who had been observing the conversation with bemusement. “Wash wants you to put your helmet on.”

“How did he know?” muttered Donut, reluctantly obeying the order.

“He tried radioing you but you didn’t answer.”

“What did he want?”

“To see what we were up to.” Tapping his chest, where the emotions of his soul-mates flowed freely, Doc said, “Kind of hard to keep stuff from them.”

“They still won’t know what’s coming,” said Donut with a grin. “Come on. We have to get ready.”

“What about finishing our inventory?”

“Oh, that can wait. See if you can find a trash bag.”

“A trash bag?”

“Yeah, we’ll use it to carry the pillows.”

“Are we really doing this?”

“You bet! We’re going to bang the guys!”

…

Caboose wandered down the corridor of the main building, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on peeling his orange. Church watched him in amusement, his holographic form floating over Caboose’s shoulder. “Are you trying to eat it or mangle it?”

“It’s being difficult,” said Caboose with a huff. “My fingers are sticky!”

“You’re wearing your armour, Caboose. You can’t even feel it. Actually, it might make it a heck of a lot easier if you took it off.”

“Washington does not like that.”

“He’s paranoid,” said Church dismissively. “And a hypocrite. He disappears in the middle of the night to workout, and does he wear his armour? No. He worries too much. This is the first time in forever we’re not at war. Might as well enjoy it.”

There was a loud _squelching_ sound as Caboose accidentally crushed his orange. Juice dripped to the floor and he stared at the mangled remains of his fruit. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. We’ll get you another one. Lord knows we have enough of them. I wish people would donate beer as much as they’re donating fruit.”

“You don’t drink.”

“Well, no. But it’s the principal of the matter.”

“Principal Kimball wants beer?”

“She could probably use one,” said Church with a snicker.

As they turned the corner, Caboose froze upon seeing a set of blue armour propped up in the middle of the hallway. “Church,” he whispered loudly, “there are two of you.”

“Caboose, you idiot, it’s just my body. Without me in it.”

When the war on Chorus had finished, Sarge had constructed Church a robot body to inhabit whenever he felt like it. Since it took a lot of effort and energy to possess bodies, Church didn’t do it often. Mostly whenever it was Cuddle Time, or when he had a particular urge to soul-bond with one of his soulmates.

“All right, very funny!” he called out in annoyance. “Now put it back where you found it. That means you, Tucker.”

There was no answer, and he couldn’t feel anything particularly off in his soul-link. Huffing out a breath, Church jumped forwards and into his body. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll do it myself.”

Caboose promptly reached out and set his hand against the spot where his soulmark rested on Church’s back. Cheer and contentment flowed through Church and he relaxed, settling his hand against Caboose’s wrist.

_‘Seriously. Did Tucker use you as a distraction so he could pull this stupid stunt?’_

_‘I don’t think so,’_ said Caboose with a mental hum. ‘ _He would have trouble carrying you.’_

Church was puzzled, as Caboose did have a point. There were only two people capable of lifting his body. Caboose was one, thanks to his abnormal strength. The other was Lopez, but Church knew the Spanish-speaking robot had been holed up in the garage with Simmons and Sarge since the morning.

Something slammed into his back and Church let out a yelp as he stumbled away from Caboose. The discomfort of being adruptly ripped out of a soul-bond was overcome by his anger. “What the hell?” He glared at the pillow now resting on the floor. “What is—?”

Another one crashed into his head with enough force to send him to the ground. He cursed as his head slammed off the floor, rattling his algorithm for a brief moment. The final one hit Caboose smack in the face and he reeled backwards, tripping over Church and splaying out on the floor near him.

“The pillows are attacking!” he cried. “We surrender, pillows!”

“What the hell is going on?” snapped Church. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to peer around the corner. But their assailant was already gone. Church stared at the three pillows on the floor and realized that his body had been moved out into the open to lure him into a trap. After all, you couldn’t hit a hologram.

“Ooh, when I find out who is responsible for this, I am going to kick their ass.”

…

Doc came to a halt near the mess hall, panting slightly from his mad dash. “That…was…close.”

“It wasn’t the ideal spot,” agreed Donut from his piggy-back position. He dropped down and said admiringly, “You really are fast.”

“You really have a great arm,” returned Doc. “Seriously, how heavy is Church’s body? Eight thousand pounds?”

“Felt like it when we were lifting it,” muttered Donut, feeling the deep ache creep through his arms.

“He’s not happy.”

Church’s anger stung sharply through them. “Guess we better hurry,” said Donut, digging two more pillows out of their trash bag. “Is Grif in there?”

Doc slowly eased the door open just enough so he could peer inside. Clusters of people were stationed at tables, enjoying the food that had been generously donated. At the table closest to the food counter were Grif and Tucker, sharing a tub of chocolate ice-cream.

“Tucker too,” reported Doc, letting the door creak shut as he turned back to Donut.

“All right, nailing two bucks at once.”

“That’s not how that saying goes.”

“It’s not?”

“There are birds involved, for starters. And a stone.”

“Oh. Huh.” Giving a shrug, Donut leaned his shoulder against the door and asked, “Which table are they at?”

“Front left corner.”

Inside the mess hall, Grif jabbed away Tucker’s spoon so he could scoop up a large chunk of fudge embedded in the ice-cream. “Stop it,” snapped Tucker, shoving at Grif’s elbow. “I’ve barely had any of this!”

“Hey, the fact that I’m sharing is a damn miracle,” countered Grif. “Take what you can get.”

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t give us a tub each. I saw at least a dozen cartons when they were brought in.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t stick around long enough to see where they put them. What’s the point in midnight snacking if I have to hunt for the good stuff?”

“I thought they changed the locks on the kitchen doors.”

“They tried. Nothing can keep me away from food.”

“Except Wash.”

Grif mad a face. “The guy has no respect for emotional eating. Hasn’t he ever raided the pantry for a midnight snack?”

“Grif, most people don’t eat three bags of chips as a midnight snack.”

“You’re missing out, man.”

Tucker leaned forwards slightly to jab his spoon into the slowly-melting chocolate treat. It was halfway to his mouth when something hard slammed into the back of his head. He pitched forward into the table with a shout, his arm knocking into the tub of ice-cream and sending it to the floor. The carton broke open and the chocolate sprayed across the tiles.

“Tucker, what’d you do that for?” wailed Grif.

“What the hell was that?” Tucker twisted his neck and stared at the pillow by his feet. “A pillow?”

“Seriously? You got thrown off-balance by a pillow?”

Just as the words finished leaving his mouth a second pillow slammed into Grif’s face, causing him to see stars for a brief moment. “Ow!”

“You were saying?” said Tucker with a sneer.

“That hurt!” Grif picked up the pillow and squeezed it. “Why did this hurt? It’s a freaking pillow!”

“All right, who did it?” demanded Tucker. He glared around the hall, where the inhabitants were now staring at them.

“Uh, not any of us,” one of the onlookers piped up. “It was a blonde guy. He opened the door and just chucked them at you. He’s got a fantastic arm.”

“Donut,” growled Grif.

Tucker grabbed his helmet and slid it on. “Yo! Have any of you losers seen Donut?”

“No, why?” asked Simmons, his voice crackling through the radio.

“The idiot just tried to kill us with pillows,” grumbled Grif.

“That asshole!” cried Church. “He just got Caboose and I a few minutes ago. We didn’t even see him.”

“Maybe he’s a ninja now!” exclaimed Caboose.

“Donut, if you’re listening, I am going to kill you.”

“He’s not going to hear you, Church,” informed Tucker. “He was described to us by witnesses as ‘a blonde guy’.”

“Of course he’s not wearing his helmet,” said Washington in annoyance. “That’s the last time he covers inventory duty in the furniture warehouse. Doc!”

“Yeah?”

The medic’s voice joined the radio call and Washington demanded, “Is Donut with you?”

“No. A bunch of pillows were just delivered and he was really excited about them. Grabbed a bunch and disappeared. I wondered what he was going to do with them.”

“He is so dead,” growled Tucker.

“They’re just pillows,” said Carolina in bewilderment.

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of something Donut throws,” said Sarge feelingly. “The boy can turn anything into a weapon. Lopez! Lock the door!”

**“It’s the garage. It’s an open space. There are no doors.”**

Doc tuned into the conversation for a moment longer before clicking off. “You’ve lost the element of surprise,” he remarked. “They know it’s you.”

“But they don’t know when I’m coming,” said Donut, eyes gleaming. “We’ve struck four and there’s six left. And they won’t be able to catch me so long as you’re by my side.” He promptly jumped onto Doc’s back, looping his arms around his neck. “Onwards!”

“Isn’t that uncomfortable for you?”

Doc was still in his armour, mostly for the ability to tune into the radio and hear what the others were saying. Donut was wearing shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt, and Doc couldn’t imagine the metal of his armour was comfortable against his exposed skin.

“I’m fine,” said Donut breezily. “It’s easier for you to carry me without my armour. Can’t be weighing my getaway guy down.”

That was true, for Doc barely felt Donut on his back. “You know, I don’t remember actually agreeing to do this.”

“Sure you did. At some point.”

…

Donut and Doc paused outside of Kaikaiana’s room, where they could hear music blasting from behind the steel door. Doc eyed his companion nervously. “Carolina is her bunkmate. What if she’s in there?”

“Well, then we’ll get the two of them.”

“I admire your optimism.”

Donut tried the door but it was locked. He removed a slim key card from his pocket, which he inserted in the door’s slot. The Reds and Blues, with the exception of Church who didn’t need one, all had a card that unlocked each other’s rooms. Privacy, as Church often said, didn’t really exist amongst soulmates.

The blonde slid open the door and peeked in. Kai was dancing around the room, belting out the lyrics to a pop song. Doc handed Donut a pillow and he launched it just as Kai executed a rapid twirl. Kai’s enthusiastic performance was cut off with a loud screech as she reeled backwards and fell to the floor. Her back banged into the table holding the music player. It tipped over and smacked against the floor, pieces of plastic breaking off the device.

“I was just getting to my favourite part, asshole!” she yelled. She propped herself up on her elbows, only to see an empty doorway. She stormed over and glowered into the corridor, but found no sign of her assailants. Brow furrowing, she slowly backed away and gazed warily around the room.

“Crap. I think we’re haunted.”

…

“There’s no cover here.”

“Give me the pillows.”

Raising a brow, Doc asked, “You don’t want me to come with you?”

“No. I need my secret weapon to stay a secret.” Donut took the trash bag and said, “I’ll be right back.”

He went into the garage, where Sarge, Lopez and Simmons were working on fixing the vehicles wrecked during the war. Katie Jensen, who was assisting them, glanced up and spotted him. “Hello, Private Donut!” she greeted.

Lopez jerked his head around to find Donut wielding a pillow. Aiming a wrench at the blonde, he warned, **“Don’t even think about it.”**

“Heads up,” said Donut cheerfully.

He whipped the pillow as hard as he could. Lopez dove out of the way, but couldn’t dodge the second pillow. He hit the concrete floor with a hard _thwack_. **“Damn you and your mutant arm!”**

“This is insubordination,” barked Sarge. “Son, put the pillow down this instant!”

“What’s wrong with you?” demanded Simmons.

“I always wanted to have a pillow fight,” said Donut simply.

“This isn’t a pillow fight! This is you running around blindsiding people!”

“I didn’t blindside Lopez. He just wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way.”

**“Oh, screw you.”**

Donut charged forwards and Simmons let out a yelp, scrambling to escape. Sarge, on the other hand, raced to meet Donut. The blonde ducked the grab and used a pillow to knock Sarge’s legs out from under him.

“Damn it!” snapped Sarge. By the time he straightened up again, Donut was already advancing towards Simmons. “Get him, son!”

“Trying!” cried Simmons.

“You’re throwin’ empty boxes! That won’t do squat! Use the tools!”

“He isn’t wearing armour!”

“The boy has been shot and had his head blown up by a grenade, and doesn’t have a mark on him!”

“Good point.”

As Simmons reached for the toolbox Donut tossed his pillow at him. Simmons grunted as the pillow struck his stomach and sent him stumbling backwards. He crashed into the shelving and he gave a yelp as the dislodged tools and objects clattered against his armour. Hearing footsteps approaching from behind, Donut whirled around, using the force of the spin to smack Sarge against the side of the face.

“Damn it!”

**“Want another one, Lopez?”** asked Donut with a grin, brandishing yet another pillow.

The blonde’s Spanish was getting better, thanks to an effort to practice frequently. Giving a scoff, Lopez said, **“No. Go away. I think you put a dent in my head.”**

Donut sprinted out of the garage, having to duck the wrench Lopez chucked his way. Simmons and Sarge straggled to their feet. As the latter raced after him, the former activated his radio. “We’ve been hit,” reported Simmons.

“Did you at least get him?” demanded Church.

“Sarge is in pursuit.”

“Negative,” returned the Red Commander. “No Donut in sight.”

“Seriously? There were three of you in the garage and none of you could lay a hand on him?”

“Four, technically,” remarked Simmons, glancing at Jensen, who had observed the entire ordeal with wide eyes. She hastily quit her baffled staring and returned to work when Simmons turned to look at her. “But yeah. Donut’s pretty wiry.”

“I guess that leaves us,” said Carolina in amusement.

“He can try,” spoke Washington. “But what about Doc and Sister?”

“He already got me in the warehouse,” chimed in Doc.

When Kai did not respond, Tucker called, “K! You’re being summoned!”

“Geez, way to blow out my eardrums,” snapped Grif.

It took a minute, but eventually Kai joined the radio call. “Dudes, I’m trying to have some me time.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Not like that, bro!”

“I don’t suppose you’ve been struck by a pillow recently?” asked Wash.

“The ghost got you too?” said Kai in surprise.

“It wasn’t a ghost, dumbass,” said Grif with a snort. “It was Donut. He’s having a pillow fight by making fools out of all of us.”

“That’s messed up. He threw off my groove. And he broke my player.”

“What do you think, Wash? Should we put an end to Donut’s little game?” asked Carolina.

“I’d say I’d hate to ruin his record, but that’d be a lie. Let’s get him.”

…

“Where is he?”

Carolina shrugged in response to Washington’s question. They had been searching the base for the better part of an hour but found no sign of Donut. “Probably hunkering down somewhere.”

“I thought for sure he’d come after us.”

“He’s not that stupid.” Wash turned his head to stare at her, and though she couldn’t see his expression, she felt his disbelief flow through their soul-link. “Right. Well, if he tries, I’ll give him full points for being ballsy.”

As they rounded the corner, a lanky blonde carrying two pillows stepped out from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. The second he saw them he took off running, and the ex-Freelancers were in quick pursuit.

“Stop, Donut!” shouted Washington. “And where the hell is your armour?”

“You’ll make it a lot easier on yourself if you come to us quietly,” called Carolina.

“Can I hit you with a pillow?” asked Donut, flinging a glance over his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

“Then no surrender!”

“Franklin—” started Wash in annoyance.

But he didn’t get to finish what he planned to say. When he and Carolina approached the intersection of the corridor in which Donut had just sprinted past, a white blur suddenly caught them both directly in the face. Wash and Carolina both yelped in surprise and stumbled backwards, momentarily caught off guard.

“You got them!” shrieked Donut gleefully as Doc made a mad dash towards him. “You got them!”

“I’m trying not to think about it,” squeaked Doc. Heart pounding madly in his chest, he bent down to let Donut hop on his back before making his escape. Wash and Carolina tried to catch them, but Doc was too fast for them, and soon the pair was out of their sight.

“That traitorous, backstabbing idiot,” said Carolina furiously.

“Should have known something was off,” said Washington with a scowl. For most of the day, Donut’s delight had flowed through him, while Doc’s emotions had been subdued. That wasn’t necessarily suspicious, as occasionally they all needed a break and kept their emotions guarded once in a while. Doc didn’t make a habit of lying, so Washington hadn’t thought much of the medic’s quietness during the whole situation.

“He got us,” said Carolina with grudging respect. “He lured us right into a trap. Too bad it’s not possible to wash off shame.”

“It would have saved us a lot of grief over the years. Let’s round up the others.”

“Where do you think they went?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find them. And then we’re going to kick their ass.”

“Damn straight.”

…

Since Doc had already shed his armour before launching the ambush on Carolina and Wash, the pair ran straight for their pre-determined hiding place. They hunkered in the corner of the warehouse where it all began, using a couch as cover.

“We are so dead,” muttered Doc.

He had lowered his emotional barrier and was now feeling the full brunt of his soulmates’ emotions. Ire and determination surged through his chest, mingling with his own apprehension and unease. Donut said optimistically, “I’m sure they’ll cool down soon enough.”

“You are feeling what I’m feeling, right?”

Donut let out an annoyed huff of breath. “I don’t know why they’ve got their briefs in a twist. A pillow fight is nothing to be angry about.”

“It wasn’t much of a pillow fight. It was more like you blindsiding them with pillows.”

“That’s what Simmons said.”

Light suddenly flooded the space as the roll-up door clattered open. There were several heavy footfalls against concrete. Donut and Doc exchanged wide-eyed looks.

_“Friendly heat signatures detected.”_

Freckles’ mechanical voice seemed to echo through the space. “Got ‘em,” said Grif with a wide grin.

“Convenient, too. Now, where are those pillows?” mused Washington.

“Looks like right where they left them,” answered Simmons, approaching the bin that contained the remainder of the pillow donations.

“Come on out, dirtbags!” ordered Sarge. “If ya want to dish it out, ya better be able to take it.”

Aware that the game was up, Doc and Donut stood up. “Um…you know, I didn’t get you with my armour on,” pointed out Donut, eyeing the colourful protective gear warily.

“You wanted a pillow fight, didn’t you?” asked Carolina silkily, taking a pillow out of the bin and slowly swinging it. “You’re getting one.”

“Get ready for a beat down, suckers!” crowed Kai.

Doc leapt over the couch and tried to make a break for it. Three pillows immediately sailed in his direction and caused him to stumble. Tucker tackled him to the ground and asked, “Where do you think you’re going, Doc?”

The medic yelped as Tucker wielded his pillow and smacked him hard across the face. He then grabbed Doc in a headlock and dragged him over to where the others were standing. Resigned to his fate, Donut trudged forwards. “Do I at least get a pillow for—”

An uppercut to the chin sent him to the floor, causing him to wheeze for breath. “Lopez!” he whined.

**“Don’t even start.”**

The others formed a circle around the pair and began to ruthlessly assault them with pillows. Every time Donut and Doc tried to stand up, they were knocked back down. Doc let out a yip as his glasses were dislodged from his face. “Sarge!”

“Okay, okay!” cried Donut. “Ouch! Caboose!”

“Donut!” returned Caboose cheerfully, landing a solid hit to the blonde’s stomach. “Pillow fights are fun!”

“Hell yeah,” said Church with a cackle. “I can see the appeal, Donut.”

Donut and Doc were freed from the feathery assault ten minutes later. The pair lay on the floor in a slightly dazed state. Washington nudged Donut in the side and said lightly, “Get your armour and go collect the pillows you’ve left scattered across the complex. We’ll see you at dinner.”

“It’s taco night,” added Caboose. “You can’t nap through taco night.”

“We’ll try not to,” said Donut. “Pillows really _can_ hurt.”

“No crap,” said Grif with a snort. “You owe me a carton of chocolate ice-cream, by the way.”

“You owe us,” amended Tucker.

“Got it.”

Sarge retrieved Doc’s glasses and handed them over. “Next time you wanna be insubordinate, there’ll be more than pillows to worry about it.”

“Yes sir,” muttered Donut.

“Noted,” spoke Doc, gingerly slipping his spectacles over his eyes.

“Catch up with you soon, dorks,” said Kai with a snicker.

They filed out of the warehouse, bidding the pair goodbye with jeers and kicks to the side. Donut rolled over and set his hand against Doc’s chest. Exhaustion, gratitude and contentment rippled through Doc, and the stale air of the warehouse disappeared and was replaced with the sweet scent of bubble-gum. Doc placed his hand against Donut’s hip and closed his eyes, his soul humming intensely.

_‘We’re supposed to clean up the pillows.’_

_‘I know,’_ responded Donut. ‘ _But we’ve got a bit before dinner. Thanks for being my main man today.’_

_‘You’re welcome. It was fun, up until they cornered us.’_

_‘That was fun too. Though I’m not used to being smashed by so many people at once.’_

_‘I can’t believe I actually got Wash and Carolina. Too bad I won’t be able to ever bring it up again.’_

_‘You could.’_

_‘Sure, but I value my life.’_


End file.
